Seven Days With The InLaws
by Your Angel of Music
Summary: A disaster in their flat forces Syed and Christian to temporarily move in with the Masoods. During the ensuing week there are issues to face, awkward moments to be had, misunderstandings to be endured and, most importantly, lessons to be learned.


**Title: **Seven Days With The In-Laws  
><strong>Author: <strong>Your Angel of Music (MercuryPheonix)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Set some time after 8th March 2012

**Summary:** A disaster in their flat forces Syed and Christian to temporarily move in with the Masoods. During the ensuing week there are issues to face, awkward moments to be had, misunderstandings to be endured and, most importantly, lessons to be learned.

**A/N:** I was lucky enough to celebrate the wonderful **CC**'s birthday with her this weekend - during our deep and analytical fangirling, she told me that what she wants to see on screen is Syed and Christian being forced by some kind of problem to move in with the Masoods for a period of time. As we both agreed that it is foolish to pin our hopes on seeing this on screen, I decided that I would write it for her as a belated birthday present. So, this is for you, my lovely. Happy Birthday!

* * *

><p><strong>Seven Days With The In-Laws<strong>

**Day One**

Christian set the bag down in the hallway, his face stony as he flexed his fingers and shoved his hand in his pocket. A feeling - it wasn't quite dread, but it was strung precariously somewhere between dread and awkwardness – flitted through his chest as the familiar-yet-unfamiliar walls seemed to close in on him.

He could feel Syed's gaze fixing on him, concern shining from his eyes as they caught the deer-in-a-headlights expression on Christian's face; he caught the look with his own, twitching his mouth into a reassuring smile as Zainab hustled between them, picking up his discarded bag and beckoning them up the stairs.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he whispered, tugging on Syed's arm as the younger man made to follow his mother.

"What else are we supposed to do?" the words slid from Syed's throat in a hiss; it wasn't sharp or scathing, but it was in that familiar tone of voice that forbade any sort of argument. "It's going to be at least a few days 'til they fix the pipes and it's not like we can afford to check into a hotel."

"Yeah, but…"

"I thought you were making progress," there was a sad tinge to Syed's voice as he spoke; a tightening of his brow, a shimmer in his eyes that Christian had sworn to himself he would never see again. "I thought you were getting on; that you were both going to make an effort."

Christian tightened his fingers around Syed's arm, squeezing just tightly enough to reassure without hurting him.

"We are. But dinner's one thing, Sy - this is twenty-four seven," he loosened his hand, stroking his thumb up and down the flesh of Syed's arm, feeling the tense muscles relaxing beneath the touch. "It's just…what if everything goes wrong? I don't want to go backwards. She might hate me again by the end of the week."

A tiny smile quirked Syed's lips; he shook Christian's hand away from his arm, curling his own fingers around Christian's wrist and tugging him towards him. The steps gave him a height advantage Christian wasn't used to. It felt quite nice: the reassuring hand moving to his shoulder as Syed stared down at him with that _look_.

"It'll be okay," Syed leant down, kissing the side of his head before pulling away with a sly grin. "You aren't _that_ difficult to live with. Trust me."

Christian opened his mouth, a response dancing on the tip of his tongue - but, at that precise moment, Zainab decided to appear at the top of the stairs.

"What are you waiting for?" her voice was sharp, a full-bodied return to the Zainab of old – Christian wasn't sure whether this filled him with relief or made him want to bury himself in a hole in the garden. "Come on. We haven't got all day. The sooner you get unpacked the sooner I can stop worrying about you and put dinner on. I've had to put the spare mattress on the floor so you'll have to fight over who gets the bed…"

As she walked away, the words fading unintelligibly as she disappeared back into the room, Christian shot Syed a look that didn't really need any accompanying words.

"Spare mattress?"

Syed shrugged.

"You are joking me, right?"

Syed didn't even try and answer. Instead, with another shrug of resignation, he simply turned around and followed his mother up the stairs.

And Christian realised that this was going to be a very long few days.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Two<strong>

The soft padding of footsteps alerted Syed to the fact that someone had entered the room. He looked up from where he was dressing – comfortable in a t-shirt and pants, his jeans laid out beside him on the bed as a sock hung half-on and half-off his foot - and flashed a grin at the approaching figure of Christian.

"You took your time."

Christian stuck out his tongue; his expression was almost identical to that of Kamil's when he didn't get his own way, and Syed struggled to swallow the laugh that bubbled up from his lungs.

"I spent a whole five minutes listening at the door to make sure I didn't bump into one of your parents," he huffed, scrubbing a hand through his damp hair as he took a few more steps into the room. "Not everyone is as appreciative of me in a towel as you are."

Syed perched on the edge of the bed, letting his eyes run up and down the length of Christian's body as he tugged the fugitive sock back up his ankle. Christian raised an eyebrow.

"Case and point, don't you think?"

"Shut up," Syed bunched up the pants he'd worn last night and chucked them at Christian's head. "I can look. It's my right."

Christian, who had managed to side-step the badly aimed underwear, flashed a grin; it was the first real, easy smile Syed had seen since they'd relocated yesterday, and he was pleased to see it.

"That's because you're insatiable, young man," Christian laughed as his words tugged an indignant expression from Syed.

"_I'm_ insatiable? You were the one begging to get in bed with me last night."

"To _sleep_."

"That's because you're old," Syed clasped his hands between his legs, the picture of innocence. "Your poor back couldn't handle the floor, could it old man?"

"Oi," Christian sprang forward, shoving Syed back onto the bed. "I've never heard you complain."

Syed laughed, catching hold of Christian's hand to haul himself up on his elbows, his bare leg running comfortably up and down the towel that clung around Christian's middle.

There was an easiness hanging in the air as Syed looked up at Christian; relishing the contact of the fluffy material against his ankle, luxuriating in the heat that emanated through from the flesh beneath. For a moment, Syed forgot that they were shacked up in his parents' house. It was like any other morning before they went off to their respective jobs: the playful banter, the ease of communication, the casual, motive-less contact that they didn't have to think twice about…

…he forgot, that is, until his father decided to come bustling into the room.

"Syed, you've had a phone call about the stall, apparently something's gone wrong with the payment and they need you to renew the contract if you want to carry on selling at the…"

It took a few moments for the scene to register – but, when it did, Masood froze, his hand clutching the phone in a vice-like grip as his eyes widened. Syed felt a flush creeping up his neck as he and Christian sprang apart, both of them sharing a guilty look that didn't really reflect the innocence of the situation. But then again, Syed knew, any physical contact – especially in the state of undress they were currently in – was probably as good as sex in the unaccustomed eyes of his parents.

"Um…sorry…I'll…"

"No, wait, Dad!" Syed scrabbled for his jeans, pulling them up and over his hips as Christian crossed his arms protectively over his bare chest. "No, I'll be down, I'll sort it, don't worry."

As he took the phone from his father's hand and ushered him from the room, Syed shot an apologetic glance towards Christian. He saw that there was an awkward blush that clung to his skin; his shoulders were tense; the ease that had permeated the room just a few second earlier had dissipated; but, despite all this, Christian flashed him a smile that told him it was okay.

Even so, Syed's eyes slid shut as he closed the bedroom door, a sigh hissing from between his lips.

They had a long way to go.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Three<strong>

"Christian?"

Christian stopped - his hand frozen on the door handle as his heart leapt into his throat - and turned to face the familiar voice.

Zainab was wringing her hands, an uncertain expression drowning the usual sharpness of her features as she looked up at him.

"Zainab?"

"I was just wondering…" her fingers tightened together in front of her stomach, as if she wasn't quite sure what to say. "If everything is okay? I know it's not the most ideal of circumstances, but I hope that you don't feel unwelcome here."

Christian felt something in him soften; the anxiety remained, exacerbated by the fact that Zainab's discomfort hung off her like a loose-fitting skin, but he felt his heart opening to her. He'd felt that a lot over the past few weeks. It was a scary, but nice feeling. It felt like something they were both experiencing at the same time; and that was a new, wonderful, glorious thing.

"I don't," he managed, flashing her a smile. "I'm fine. Thank you. I mean, you didn't have to…"

"No, I did," she smiled back. "You just make sure you make yourself at home. This will always be Syed's home so…" she swallowed, as if the next words were a little more difficult to tug from her lungs "…so it will always be your home too."

Christian opened his mouth – to say 'thank you', or something else that was as yet unformed in his mind – but before he'd even moved his tongue Zainab had disappeared past him into the room she shared with Masood.

"What was that?" Syed was already in bed as Christian entered, sprawled out messily beneath the covers, his head propped on one hand as the other flipped through a few documents for the business. Christian closed the door behind him, clicking it shut and tugging his shirt up and over his head.

"Your mum."

Syed looked up, properly this time, his eyes narrowing as Christian kicked off his trousers and crawled carefully into the single bed.

"And?"

"She wants me - " Christian pulled the duvet up to his waist, scooting onto his side to get as close to Syed as possible without pushing him off the bed " – to make myself at home."

He leant forward, pressing a hard kiss against Syed's lips as one hand crept beneath the sheets, splaying out across his warm hip and tracing tiny circles into the skin. Syed pressed himself into Christian's chest, reaching around to drop the papers onto the floor before bringing his hand around to cup Christian's cheek.

"You do realise," he broke away, holding Christian's head in place against the pillow so he couldn't follow his lips. "That my mum is in the next room."

"She said it, not me."

"You're incorrigible," Syed moved forward to kiss him again, pressing flush against him as his hand moved down to push down the back of Christian's pants. As their lips moved messily against each other, Syed hooked a leg around Christian's waist and somehow managed to roll them both so he was on top, his elbows bracketing Christian's head in a warm, fleshy prison. A prison he would happily languish in forever.

"Sorry, who's incorrigible?" Christian grinned breathlessly, his hands running down Syed's sides to pull him closer - as close as he possibly could - unwilling to let any part of Syed get away from him. He'd always wanted all of him; and now, doing this in this room, under Syed's family roof, it felt like he had a little bit more of all of him than he'd ever had before.

"I held out these last two nights because I thought it would be awkward for you," Syed peppered kisses down Christian's jaw, punctuating each kiss with a word. "You should have told me you didn't mind."

His hand worked it's between them, pushing past the waistband of Christian's pants and closing around a handful of flesh; Christian opened his mouth, sound bubbling in his chest, but his groan was silenced by Syed's free hand, the fingers pressing insistently against his lips.

"It would probably be best if we kept it down, though," Syed grinned, removing his hand and pressing a quick kiss against Christian's lips. "Or I might have to gag you."

* * *

><p><strong>Day Four<strong>

Zainab set the basket down onto the floor, feeding the sheets into the open door of the washing machine. It felt strange, the house being full. It felt like she was a mother again; at least, a mother to a houseful of children who depended on her and needed her to cook their food and do their washing and generally run their lives. There was a sense of completeness to the whole thing – herself and Masood, Tamwar and Afia, Syed…Syed and…

She looked up suddenly, thankful that the oncoming footsteps had distracted that particular line of thought – at least, thankful until she saw who it was who was hovering in the doorway.

"Zainab," Christian hoisted the bag further up onto his shoulder, his free hand fiddling nervously with the material of his tracksuit bottoms. "I just came in for a drink before my client, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"No, no, it's fine," she smiled at him, as best she could – it was a strange feeling, this sense of being able to look at him and not feel the searing heat of hatred that she had felt for so long. "I was just putting on a load of washing, do you have any?"

That was familial, she realised; she was treating him like a rather awkward member of the family, and it was an odd feeling for both of them. For a long time, she knew, she had seen him as the monster who had taken away her son, lured him away from her and destroyed a relationship that she had once been so precious. But seeing him that night, and seeing him now – vulnerable, a little scared, anxious, trying so very hard but not quite sure what he was supposed to be doing – was like a switch turning on in her head.

He was human. He loved her son. He was not a bad person.

And she didn't altogether mind too much if he became her son-in-law.

Not that she was _happy_ about it. Not even close. But it wasn't something that she couldn't see any more. She could see it. Just.

Hence, asking him if he had any washing.

"I have a few bits…if that's okay?"

"Of course," she stood up, setting the now empty washing basket on the table. "I can wash the sheets, as well, get some new bedding for you, and for Syed as well…"

"Zainab."

She looked up, noting the anxiety and mild embarrassment that was in his voice; and, as she watched him, she felt nothing but confusion.

"You know that you…you only need to wash one set of sheets, don't you?"

The confusion continued for a few more seconds – and then realisation hit her as if the roof had caved in on top of her.

"Oh," for a brief moment she felt rising anger, that he was mocking her, teasing her awkwardness, throwing it back in her face – but one glance at him told her otherwise. He wasn't meeting her eye; his gaze was fixed on the floor, his fingers fiddling with the tie of his joggers like a nervous child. He didn't mean any harm by it.

That didn't make it any less uncomfortable. For both of them. Zainab could feel it rising in her chest, a horrible sensation, choking somewhere in her windpipe – it was one thing to think that Christian loved her son, cared about him, would look after him, but to entertain the thought that they actually…

"I just didn't…" Christian took a breath. "…I didn't want you to do anything you didn't have to…and, more importantly, I…uh…I thought you needed to know…"

And before Zainab could ask him what he meant, Christian had turned and hurried from the kitchen.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Five<strong>

The block trembled for a brief moment, seeming to freeze in the air before it came crashing down onto the table - and bringing the rest of the makeshift tower with it.

Kamil scrunched up his forehead, narrowing his eyes in displeasure; something had destroyed his tower, but he didn't know who to blame. He'd liked that tower, as well. It had no right to fall over. Sticking out his bottom lip in a pout, he bent down to reach for one of the offending blocks, closing it in a podgy fist before pulling his arm back behind his head.

"Hey, you really don't want to be doing that," a voice that was familiar, but not quite as familiar as that of his immediate family, interrupted his determination. A hand reached out, plucking the block from his fingers before he could throw it across the room. Kamil looked up, trying to push his bottom lip out further to convey his displeasure, his face crumpling and his eyes filling with adamant, angry tears.

Instead of handing the block back to him, however, the man – and it was a man, a man he sort-of-recognised – put it carefully down on the table. The tears still fresh on his cheeks, Kamil blinked, watching intently as those same hands – big hands – began to pick up the remaining blocks and stack them, rebuilding the tower that had been destroyed.

"See?" his brother leaned out from beside the big man, reaching out to stroke his hair with a smile on his face. "You don't want to have a tantrum in front of your Uncle Christian when he's trying to help, do you?"

Unclechristian. Kamil remembered that now. He'd been sitting at the table with them recently. Kamil didn't really get to talk to him much; the man was always on the other side of the table talking to his brother. He remembered being suspicious of him at first, but Syed had seemed to like him, so he'd come to the conclusion that he was to be trusted.

Especially now, as Kamil's eyes widened at the sight of his pristine new tower. He raised his face up, grinning at the man and clapping his hands with unabashed delight. He didn't say thank you, but the man smiled back anyway, casting a glance at his brother before looking back to him.

"You're welcome."

As Kamil went back to his tower, gathering more blocks to decorate the empty space around it, he was vaguely aware of his brother and the man talking; they were being quiet, but he could still hear it - so he looked up from what he was doing, one block dangling from his fingers as he watched his brother lean against the man.

"See, I told you you'd be great with him."

"Not sure what your mother would say though."

"She wants best for him, and me, and that's having _you_ here," his brother moved closer, resting his chin against the bigger man's shoulder and laying a hand on his knee. "Anyway, he loves you, _and_ you managed to stop him crying. I don't see how she can complain."

Syed leant forward at that, pushing his face into the other man's. Kamil pulled a face. They were doing that thing that his mum and dad did sometimes - that thing with their mouths - and he realised that that must mean they were like his mum and dad. He wondered if they were married. They must have been; they were doing that thing with their mouths that mums and dads do, and mums and dads are married.

He liked the fact that his brother was married. It made him feel happy. And he liked the man his brother was married too. He built amazing towers. Kamil decided he was going to play with him more.

There was a look of surprise on the man's – Unclechristian's - face as he abandoned his tower and clambered up onto the sofa, pulling himself onto the bulky knee and leaning back onto the big arm – the arm that he'd been eyeing for a while because it looked like it would give a great hug.

And, as his mother entered the room to take him upstairs for his nap, he clung to those arms, his eyes closing determinedly as she tried to extricate him from the embrace.

"No," he said firmly, clinging to the front of Unclechristian's shirt as he was tugged away; there was a look of surprise in his mum's eyes that he didn't quite understand, but he didn't care, instead focusing all his energy into keeping himself in the comfy heat of his new friend.

He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay with Unclechristian. He liked him.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Six<br>**

"I had a call from the people who've been looking at the pipes in the flat," the whole family looked up as Christian spoke, food-laden forks frozen in midair before expectant mouths. "They said they should have it fixed in the next couple of days, we'll just have to sort out the mess once we move back in."

"Can't they do it for you?" Zainab set her fork down on the plate in front of her, her gaze flicking between Syed and Christian with concern; the equal concern that she showed both of them didn't pass by Syed unnoticed, and he struggled to hide the smile which threatened his lips. "I mean, it was hardly your fault and you're paying them enough to…"

"They've said all they can do is fix the pipe and deal with the damage to the house directly caused by the flooding," Christian looked at Syed, his free hand reaching under the table to brush reassuringly against his knee. "All the rest – the stuff that was damaged – we have to sort out ourselves."

Syed cast a glance at his mother, biting his lip as she noticed the brief contact; he expected her to make a comment, or to look away in discomfort (not that he would have blamed her - he knew in his heart that this was going to take more than a conversation, a few dinners and a few nights under the same roof to sort out) but all he saw was a brief flicker of awkwardness before she fixed Christian with a determined look.

"Well, you can't do it on your own," her back seemed to straighten with the strength of her conviction, utter sincerity in her eyes as she addressed Christian and himself with equal care. "We'll come over and help you, won't we Mas?"

She darted the fire in her eyes towards Masood, urging him to fight her on the issue – but there was no need for it. Masood nodded, shovelling another forkful of food into his mouth and chewing slowly; Syed couldn't help but notice that he, too, was looking at them both as if they were one person, as if they were _together_…the way they used to look at him when he sat here with Amira. Only, this time, there was honesty and truth from both ends of the table.

"Of course we will," Masood broke the silence. "Whatever you need us to do, we'll do it."

Christian shot a glance towards Syed, holding his gaze for a brief moment before looking back at Masood with a somewhat wide-eyed expression.

"Are you sure?"

"It's your home. It's important."

Syed looked at Zainab as she spoke, hoping that his eyes were brimming with the gratitude that was overflowing in his heart – for the offered help, of course, but for so much more than that as well.

"How much damage was done, Christian?"

"Not much," there was a look of not-quite-belief on Christian's face – it was so utterly adorable that Syed couldn't resist reaching out and laying his fingers over the hand that now rested on the table. "Mostly in the kitchen and living room – the cupboards, the carpets, the sofa's gonna need replacing…"

"And this time Roxy isn't allowed to choose it for us," Syed sent a pointed glare, a look that was both admonishing and unashamedly coupley at the same time, in Christian's direction. "We're going to get something that's actually _comfortable_ to sit on."

There were smiles from around the table as Christian hung his head abashedly. Syed felt his heart glowing at the grins that stretched his parents' face. He'd never thought it could be possible to see them laughing like this at something so very, very _normal_ between him and Christian…something that was so very evident of their relationship…

"I'd watch out if I were you," there was some uncertainty to the words as his father spoke, but it was small enough to not completely override the gentle teasing in his words. "He'll turn into his mother and then you'll end up prematurely grey."

Christian grinned. After all this time, that expression still managed to close around Syed's heart in a electrifying, yet comforting, embrace.

"I'll bear that in mind."

And as they fell back into an easy silence, the only sound the clatter of cutlery against plates and the hungry chewing of food, Syed felt that maybe they'd come a little bit further than he'd thought they had.

* * *

><p><strong>Day Seven<strong>

"Alright. Thank you. I'll let them know."

Zainab flashed a quick smile at the man as he walked away, watching him clamber into the van that was parked outside her son's house before closing the door behind her.

The repair work had been finished quicker than they were expecting; the work was done, the pipes had been fixed, and all that was needed now was for Syed and Christian to return to their home and rebuild from the remaining damage. There was a faint hint of disappointment thrumming in her heart as she glanced up the stairs. She'd grown accustomed to having them both living in the house. Whatever awkwardness or discomfort had arisen from certain situations – and that was an unavoidable consequence, of course - she felt it had been worth it for what they had had over the week.

Still, they had their own lives. She'd only just begun to accept that about Syed – that acceptance had been the first step in accepting his relationship with Christian. She'd never really been willing to admit that he had moved away from her, taken a step into a life that was completely his own…and she'd ended up pushing him further away.

She knew that she could be a part of that life, if only she could accept that that life was there and serious and _real_. Christian was such a huge part of that life – for Syed, for herself and also, she realised, for Christian, she'd always known that she had to accept that eventually.

The horror that Yusef had inflicted upon her family had reminded her of just how important they were. And if she wanted that family, she needed to include Christian.

It was still difficult. But it was necessary.

And Christian was a good man. She had no doubt about that. And this week had reminded her how much she actually liked him.

Still, there was a long way to go.

Zainab sighed, steadying herself on the banister as she made her way up the stairs. As nervous as she was about walking in on her son and Christian, they needed to be woken up; she needed to tell them what was going on, and they needed to start work straight away if the flat was going to be in any way liveable any time soon.

She tried to push that part of their lives – the fact that they shared a bed – to the back of her mind at all times; she wanted to accept Christian, and it was easier to do so if she viewed what they had as a very loving, yet platonic, relationship. The thought of them…

…no, thinking about it was the worst thing. She didn't know if she could accept Christian if she thought about it. And she didn't want to take any steps back – her son was too precious to her.

With another deep breath, she knocked on the door, clearing her throat as she grabbed the handle and pushed her way into the room.

The sight that greeted her was not what she had been expecting; her mouth closed immediately, her feet instinctively taking her back so that she was shielded by the bulk of the door (whilst still being able to see inside).

They were sharing the single bed, as she had gathered from her conversation with Christian earlier in the week, but it wasn't that which stopped her.

It was her son, stretched out on his back with one arm wrapped behind and around Christian's shoulders, and Christian - Christian the predator, Christian the thief, Christian who had torn her family apart - curled on his side around Syed's frame, one hand slung about his waist as his head pressed keenly, almost desperately, into Syed's chest. It took a few moments for Zainab to see that he was sleeping, his eyes closed as his head rose and fell gently with the cadence of her son's breath.

At that moment, she saw Syed stir – she took another step back, peeking in through the crack between the door and the frame, shielding herself completely but unable to look away.

She watched as a gentle smile spread across her son's face, his eyes fixing onto Christian as if he were the only thing that existed in his world. He shifted slightly, bringing up his free hand to brush just behind Christian's ear – Zainab knew that Christian's hair was too short to need pushing from his face, but in that movement she recognised something…an action that she had done so many times with Masood, that he had done with her, an affectionate touch that encapsulated so much…

Suddenly, she understood what Christian had meant when he had told her that she needed to know about this. To accept them as a platonic friendship was a step in the right direction, but to see them like this…well, it took it to a whole other dimension. The way that Syed looked down at Christian; the way that Christian clung to him in his sleep, like a child searching out his only form of comfort; she saw something of herself in that, something of her relationship with Masood, her love for him, shining through in those few simple gestures.

When she had thought of them in a physical relationship before, all she had seen was the dirtiness of her own thoughts, the perversity that she had imagined; not this _normality_, this love that was physical without being wrong, that she was seeing now.

Christian had been right. She needed to understand that.

To accept them as a whole. To accept their relationship for what it was – no different to what she had with Masood, no different to what Tamwar had with Afia, no different to any other incarnation of the love that they shared.

She had needed to understand. And now she did.

Zainab took a step back, pulling the door gently shut on the intimate scene.

She'd give them a few more minutes.

She owed them that.

**FIN**

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading! I hope this met with your expectations, <strong>CC<strong> - I tried to put in as much of your wishlist as possible, so I hope it was a good read for you! Happy Birthday!


End file.
